Wednesday, June 18, 2014


I envision a scenario where I quit this app. A farm. Blueberry patches. Calloused hands. You and I smelling of faint cow manure, no matter our tireless scrubbings with that soap from the general store. A life fraught with hard labor but little to lack. Evening and we're chuckling over lamp-lit dinner about how we met so very long ago. Eating one of our favorite chickens, because it's our anniversary. And your delicate post-menopausal golden mustache glistens across my red worn eyes. Tinder Love.

*my 500 character bio on Tinder.